


renascence

by minachandler



Series: (girl)friends don't do that to one another [17]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, blackvibe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-11 06:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11708595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minachandler/pseuds/minachandler
Summary: After Laurel dies protecting Thea from Damian Darhk, Nyssa tries (and fails) to come to terms with her death.





	1. death

Nyssa’s not there when Laurel dies, but she wonders as she makes her way back to Star City if Laurel died how she wanted to. Laurel’s always said that the life she’s led - a good end would be a privilege. But she’s also said that someone once told her there are no good ways to die.

And Nyssa’s inclined to agree with the latter.

After all, dying at Damian Darhk’s hand, even if the arrow was aimed at Thea, cannot by any means have been a pleasant death. Nyssa’s not sure such a thing even exists, and this is coming from an assassin who has inflicted death on hundreds. At the same time, though, Nyssa thinks as she prepares to knock on Quentin Lance’s door, she also knows Laurel wouldn’t really have it any other way. She loves Thea - a fact Nyssa is painfully reminded of when she finds the door opened by none other than Thea Queen herself, her eyes blotchy with tears.

“Nyssa...”

“Miss Queen,” Nyssa says politely. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Laurel was my friend.”

“I think you and I both know she was a lot more to you than that,” Thea says, and her voice is thick with emotion. 

(Nyssa has the sudden, mad urge to laugh as she remembers Thea walking in on her and Laurel on the couch, and Thea’s eyes widening and her turning on her heel and leaving as quickly as she came, yelling something about putting a sock on the door next time.)

“You are correct,” Nyssa says, and she’s suddenly overcome with emotion and has to turn away hastily to hide the tear falling from her eye. “Which is why… I thought it prudent to at least pay my respects.”

“Come in,” Thea says unexpectedly. Surprised, Nyssa steps inside, and she feels the ghost of Laurel immediately the moment she sets foot in the oh so familiar apartment. 

“How are you feeling?” Nyssa asks, more because she can’t stand the silence than because she wants to really converse with her.

“I’m okay,” Thea says, even though it’s clear she’s anything but. “I - feel like it’s my fault.”

“She died how she lived, Thea,” Nyssa tells her. “Protecting the people she loved. And she loved you, very much.”

Thea’s eyes scrunch shut for a moment, as though she’s steeling herself. “I know she did. But she loved you too,” Thea replies, and the two of them nod in acknowledgement of each other.

“Where is Mr Lance?” Nyssa asks after a moment. But at this Thea shakes her head.

“I - he’s in a state.”

“I would like to see him.”

Thea points to Laurel’s bedroom, and, closing her eyes, Nyssa goes inside, wishing she could force out the many memories she had made in that very room. She finds Quentin sitting on the bed, staring into nothingness, Laurel’s Black Canary mask in his hands.

“Captain Lance,” she starts to say, and immediately he looks up.

“Oh,” he says, “it’s  _ you _ .”

“I am so very sorry for your loss.” 

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

“To lose one daughter is unimaginable, but for it to be both children...”

“You and I have never been on the same side of things,” Quentin says, “so why are you really here?”

“To pay my respects,” she says, unperturbed by his abruptness. 

And to her surprise he looks apologetic for a moment. “Of course. Laurel - thought of you as a friend.”

“Just as I thought of her. She brought me comfort during one of the most difficult times of my life. The world - my world especially - will be a darker place without her.”

“Then why aren’t you doing something about it?” he says.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Nyssa looks closer, and when she does, she sees how bloodshot his eyes are. “Laurel - when she brought back Sara, she said she did it through this thing called a Lazarus Pit. Something that could revive the dead. Something that was your father’s. Something Oliver used to bring back Thea.”

“I would do anything for your daughter,” Nyssa says sincerely, “anything at all. I -”

“- loved her?” Quentin says.

In a rare moment Nyssa instantly loses her composure, spluttering. “I - how did you...”

“She never told me,” Quentin says, “but I could see it. In her eyes. There was a time, a brief time, last year, when she was happy. Truly happy. And the funny thing about grief is that it puts things into perspective. Makes you put two and two together.”

“We were never together,” she admits. “Not really. But I did love her. I - know it cannot be easy -”

“- having someone tell me they loved both my daughters? Been there, done that. And - whatever your faults, at least I can’t blame you for my daughter’s death like I did with Oliver.”

“I am so very sorry,” she says again, aware that her words sound hollow when she can feel the sharp pain of Laurel’s absence slicing so deeply through her heart. “Not just for your loss. I - you said I could do something about Laurel’s death. I cannot. For I destroyed the Pit months ago.”

Quentin sighs. “And it’s one of a kind, right?”

“No,” Nyssa answers after a moment, and Quentin looks up hopefully. “There is another. Belonging to my sister, Talia.”

“So why can’t we use it?”

“I do not even know my sister’s whereabouts, much less if she will allow me to use her Pit for my own ends. Besides which - it would be selfish of us, of me, given the side effects of resurrecting someone with it.”

“You mean the bloodlust that Sara went through.”

“Yes. Thea, too. And unlike with Thea there will be no cure for it. None but killing the one who killed her.”

But at this Quentin gets to his feet. “If you’re saying that’s what we have to do,” he says determinedly, “then do it. Do whatever you have to. We’ll deal with the consequences later. I just - I can’t lose my baby girl. Not after losing Sara twice.”

“But -”

“But nothing. You say you loved her?”

“With everything in me,” Nyssa replies instantly. 

“Then you would do whatever it takes to get her back.”

“Even if it comes at a price?”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay,” Quentin says firmly. “And if you loved her, you would too. In a heartbeat.”


	2. resurrection

Quentin’s right, of course. Nyssa doesn’t have to deliberate for nearly as long as she thinks she will before she comes to a decision. She works with Oliver’s team to track down Talia, who, she learns, Oliver knew from his time in Russia. It takes them a week but they finally do find her somewhere deep in the Himalayas.

Talia, it turns out, does not hate Nyssa. Nor does she begrudge Oliver for killing their father - at least not in the way Nyssa expects.

“I wanted to be the one,” Talia tells Nyssa with a sigh.

“As did I,” Nyssa admits. “But that does not matter now, ukhti.”

“No, what matters is if I am going to let you resurrect your girlfriend.”

“Laurel was not my girlfriend.”

“But you loved her, did you not? Would you have come all this way with her dead body with your friends in tow if you did not?” Talia reaches out, cups Nyssa’s cheek with her hand. “Oh, ukhti sagheera. I will not pretend to understand the pangs of young love. But I will allow you to use my Pit.”

“You will?”

“You have grown into a remarkable young woman - a woman father would be aghast by. Meaning you have my full approval. So go. Prepare her for the ceremony, ya Nyssa.”

That night, clad in a white dress, as custom, Laurel is lowered into the Lazarus Pit by Nyssa, Thea, Oliver and Quentin. Talia’s acolytes chant the ritual as they do so.

When Laurel rises from the Pit, for a moment, Nyssa’s sure her heart’s stopped. The sight of Laurel, _her_ Laurel, staring back at her when Nyssa thought she would never open her eyes again, is almost too much to bear. Her blonde hair is wet, her eyes cold and unfeeling, and when she jumps out of the Pit and goes straight for Quentin he’s knocked off his feet, just before Talia injects her with a sedative.

Nyssa watches anxiously as Laurel’s taken to Talia’s quarters, and she follows with the rest of Oliver’s team to the room. Everyone is silent as they wait for Laurel to wake up. Nyssa remains standing, while Quentin sits on the bed, Laurel’s hand in his. Dinah is beside him, watching through tears as Laurel sleeps. The rest of the team are on their feet, waiting, waiting.

Finally she comes to, and as soon as she starts to stir, everyone shifts a little, realising what’s about to happen. When she opens her eyes, she frowns a little. “D-dad?”

“It’s me, sweetie. I’m right here,” Quentin breathes.

“Mom?”

“It’s so good to see you, Laurel,” Dinah says tearfully.

“Wh-where am I? And - who are you?”

For Nyssa finds herself taking a step forward, barely even realising she’s extending her hand to Laurel.

“It’s all right,” Nyssa finds herself saying. “The confusion will pass with time.”

“What’s going on?” Laurel demands.

“We’ll explain later, Laurel,” Oliver says, but she flinches when he makes to take a step towards her.

“I don’t know you,” she says, and for the first time she looks afraid.

“Laurel, it's me,” Oliver says. “Ollie.”

“No, Ollie died,” Laurel says, shaking her head, “on the Gambit, with Sara. I don’t understand, what’s going on?”

“We’ll explain everything once you get some rest,” Thea says firmly.

“Speedy?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Thea says with a smile. “Don’t worry about everyone here. Just get some sleep and it’ll be okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Dad, you’ll still be here when I wake up, right? Mom?” Laurel says, looking up at her parents, searching their eyes.

“Of course, sweetheart,” says Quentin, and Dinah kisses her daughter’s forehead. “We’re not going anywhere.”

And Nyssa watches as Laurel turns on her side and slowly drifts off to sleep, looking at peace, but now that it’s over it’s slowly starting to hit her.

What has she done?


	3. renascence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual situations warning kicks in here. It's not that explicit in this chapter (it's more at the end of the fic in the seventh and eighth chapters) but just so everyone knows, this one's not for kiddos.

They manage to get her back to Star City in one piece after a week’s recuperation in Talia’s quarters. She’s no longer in post-Gambit mode, and she remembers Oliver, Diggle and Felicity, now. She still can’t remember Nyssa, though, or the fact that she’s spent the past two years as the Black Canary.

“I’m sorry,” Laurel tells Nyssa in the car on the way back to her apartment.

“Sorry for what?” Nyssa says, and it’s still hard for her to believe they’re in the same car together, that Laurel is  _ breathing _ again. Nyssa’s heart skips a beat when Laurel meets her eyes and all she sees are pools of warmth, even if they lack recognition.

“Sorry I can’t remember,” she says. “I - clearly you were someone important to me.”

“I do not know if I would go that far,” Nyssa says without thinking, and for a second Laurel looks hurt. 

“You seem like the type who would underestimate her importance, though,” Laurel says eventually, and it surprises Nyssa that Laurel is still so perceptive even after what happened to her.

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s just - something about you,” Laurel says with a smile. “I can tell.”

“For whatever it’s worth… you were certainly important to me,” Nyssa says. 

Laurel shrugs, still with that smile on her face. “I figured. I just - find it hard to believe I was some… vigilante. Like, what happened to me saying I didn’t have to go outside the law to find justice?”

“I have never had particular regard for the law, at least not in this country, so I would not be best placed to answer that question.”

“Right, yeah, you’re an… assassin?”

“You sound like you don't believe me,” Nyssa quips, and part of her likes this Laurel in a way, the Laurel who didn’t start off thinking badly of her. “Although perhaps ‘former assassin’ is more accurate.”

“Still. You don’t look like one.”

“I did not realise killers had to look like anyone.”

“No, I mean - you’re way too pretty to be an assassin.”

Laurel catches Nyssa off-guard with that, and for a second Nyssa doesn't quite know what to say. 

“Sorry,” Laurel says again, when Nyssa is silent for an entire thirty seconds. “I didn’t mean - obviously I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, just -”

“You do not need to apologise,” Nyssa says, recovering swiftly. “I was merely - taken aback. Thank you, but I am. A killer, that is.”

Laurel doesn’t seem to perturbed by this, though. “And you dated my sister?”

“Sara and I were together, yes.”

“Right,” Laurel says, and if Nyssa didn’t know any better she’d say Laurel sounds disappointed. “And that’s how we know each other?”

“Yes.”

There’s silence again, but thankfully it’s broken by the sound of the car screeching to a halt. Nyssa gets out of the car first, holding the door open for Laurel, who follows her out. 

“You should rest,” Nyssa says once they get inside her apartment. She starts lighting the candles in the fireplace. “The flight was long, was it not? And you are probably tired.”

“You know what I’m craving right now?”

“Big Belly Burger?” Nyssa guesses with a small smile as she straightens.

“How did you know that?” Laurel says, raising her eyebrows.

“I told you we were friends,” Nyssa replies, and Laurel smiles at that.

“I should probably call Dad, let him know we got home okay.”

“You do that, and I will make the order. I presume you will have your usual.”

“How do you even know what my usual -” Laurel begins to say, but then she smiles. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Nyssa.”

“You do not ever need to thank me, ya Laurel.” The endearment slips out before she can stop it, and Laurel’s brow furrows a little in confusion, but she smiles back nonetheless.

When the food comes, Nyssa can’t help but grin as she watches Laurel dip her fries into her strawberry milkshake. Nyssa does the same, thankful for the ritual that Laurel is doing so absentmindedly - or, rather, what it reminds her of. 

“I know it’s a bit weird,” Laurel says through a mouthful of milkshake-covered fry, “but it tastes so good. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I am not laughing. I promise. I am just - recalling a happy memory. And lamenting the fact that you cannot remember it.”

“And this… memory involved fries and shakes?”

“Yes. We were in that diner on Sixth Street -”

“Oh, the one that does black and white milkshakes?” Laurel says cheerfully.

“Precisely. And I had been - lost, for quite some time, lonely, when finally I sought you out. I began training you and you began showing me the - simpler pleasures in life. And one of them,” Nyssa says with a smile, “is dipping chips into milkshake.”

“You mean fries. Are you British?”

“No, I was merely taught by a Briton, and I learned English with his accent.”

“Right.” Silence falls once more except for the sounds of them eating their food and sipping their drinks.

“Is… something on your mind?” Nyssa asks once she’s finished her fries. She sips on her milkshake.

Laurel laughs. “I mean. I’ve just come back from the dead after being shot with an arrow in the chest, none of which I can remember, and I also can't remember the assassin who taught me to be the - what was my vigilante name again?”

“The Black Canary.”

“Right.”

“But I wonder… if there is something that is concerning you,” Nyssa says tentatively, because she can’t get past the look on Laurel’s face that something is wrong. Nyssa wonders, briefly, if the bloodlust is already kicking in, even though instinctively she knows it will only manifest in combat situations.

“There is something,” Laurel admits.

“Whatever it is -”

“Why did I come back?” Laurel interrupts.

“I have explained how the Lazarus Pit works.”

“No, I mean,  _ why _ ? Why did you back my dad’s play in bringing me back?”

Nyssa falters. “Because I could not bear to be on this earth without you,” she says finally.

“Nyssa...” And to Nyssa’s surprise, Laurel covers her hand with her own. 

“Yes?”

“Were we… more than just friends, at any point?”

“What makes you say that?” Nyssa says evenly, trying not to give anything away in her expression, but it’s useless when she’s drowning in Laurel’s eyes.

“Because of what you just said. Because you brought me back from the dead. Because - there’s just this - feeling, right here -” Laurel places her hand on her heart “- that we’re… something else to each other. And I know you said you and Sara were together but I just have this  _ feeling _ that there was something going on with us. Maybe after she died.” Nyssa stays silent, not moving her hand from underneath Laurel's but also not saying anything. “I don't know. Am I being crazy?”

Nyssa sighs. “You are not,” she admits. “We were… something.”

“Did you love me?” The bluntness of Laurel’s question should surprise Nyssa, but it doesn’t. After all, it’s  _ Laurel _ .

“I did,” Nyssa says faintly. “Very much.”

“And now?”

And she shouldn’t, she  _ really  _ shouldn’t, but Nyssa finds herself leaning forward, cradling Laurel’s cheek with her hand. Laurel closes her eyes at her touch, but then Nyssa realises what she’s doing and her hand falls away.

Laurel finds her hand again, though, and twines her fingers with Nyssa’s, their palms level with each other. Tentatively, her other hand goes to the back of Nyssa’s neck, and Nyssa couldn’t stop her if she tried. Not that she does. Nyssa melts into Laurel’s touch, closing her eyes, and when Laurel finally kisses her, she’s sure her heart has dropped to her stomach. 

It’s only brief - the barest of kisses, merely the slightest brushing of Laurel’s lips against Nyssa’s lower lip - and yet it’s enough to make Nyssa breathless. When their eyes meet Nyssa finds herself saying softly, “Nothing has changed. I love you. I always will.”

“What about Sara?”

“She gave us her blessing,” Nyssa says. ”And she and I agreed we would move on. But I do not… want to force you into anything.”

“You aren’t forcing me,” Laurel tells her. And as if to prove her point, she leans in, kisses Nyssa again. It’s longer, this time, more sensual, and it doesn't take much for Laurel to coax open Nyssa's mouth with her tongue. But it’s as Nyssa feels the hot hum of Laurel’s moan in the back of her throat that she realises what she’s doing and pulls away.

“I’m sorry, I cannot… I  _ will  _ not take advantage of you.”

“You’re not,” Laurel insists. “I mean, sure, I’ve never kissed a girl before, but it seems easy enough to figure out.”

Nyssa laughs lightly despite herself, because there’s just something about this Laurel that makes her weak at the knees. And Nyssa realises, now, that Laurel’s softer, without those rough edges to her that had made them so alike and had drawn them together in the first place. She’s without bruises or scars or cracks, just… happy. Blissfully so.

“Tell me about us, then,” Laurel says. “You say you love me.”

“With all my heart,” is Nyssa’s immediate response, and she turns her hand over so she can squeeze Laurel’s.

“Why?”

“Wh-why?” Nyssa repeats, nonplussed. 

“Yeah. Like, I figure at least part of the reason I liked you, anyway, was because you’re so beautiful. You have these gorgeous cheekbones and lovely eyes.”

“The Laurel I knew never flattered me so,” Nyssa says, “at least, not with words.” Nyssa closes her eyes, remembers the way Laurel would mouth soft vowels against the hollow of her throat, the nape of her neck, kissing Nyssa’s roughened hands, Laurel’s fingers splaying over the scars that cover her shoulder blades. She sighs involuntarily, and it’s clear Laurel notices. “In answer to your question,” says Nyssa, “I love you for many reasons. I dreamt of you for weeks before I finally confessed how I felt about you. I dreamt of your lips, your hands... I fell for your goodness, your compassion, your love for humanity. But most of all, I felt like - our souls connected, from the very first time we met. And something, something almost celestial, has drawn me to you ever since.”

“That’s romantic,” Laurel says thoughtfully after a moment, and she smiles for a second at Nyssa before it fades away. “But it’s also kind of hard to believe. The two of us - soulmates.”

“Why is it hard to believe? Because of Sara?”

Laurel shakes her head. “No. Sara has nothing to do with it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had much luck with the people who I thought were my soulmates.” 

“You mean Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen.”

“Yeah. I mean - I can buy that I loved you. But - my soul? Yours? I don’t think so.”

“Perhaps. Honestly, I felt the same way for the longest time. But then I realised you saved me… and I did not know until that moment how badly I needed to be saved.”

“What moment?” Laurel presses.

“I...” Nyssa begins to say. She trails off, though, and she can feel the hot flush of pink work its way up her cheeks.

“Tell me.”

“The moment I made love to you for the very first time,” Nyssa says finally, and she’s unable to look her in the eyes, now. “I cannot explain why… but everything changed.”

Unbidden, Nyssa feels the soft pad of Laurel’s finger under her chin as Laurel lifts Nyssa’s face to hers so their eyes meet once more. 

“You don’t have to explain,” Laurel says softly, and her eyes are filled with something so warm, shining so bright, that Nyssa momentarily forgets how to speak. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… show me.”

And when Laurel kisses her this time Nyssa kisses her back, her mouth snatching at Laurel’s with less uncertainty than before, Nyssa’s tongue in Laurel’s mouth and her hands cupping her face. Nyssa can taste strawberry milkshake and smells sweat, for it’s hot tonight, even with the windows wide open and the softest breeze fanning their faces, but all that does is turn her on even more as she pulls Laurel onto her lap. Nyssa feels Laurel’s fingers at the hem of her shirt, and Nyssa lifts her arms up, revealing her bra. Laurel stares at her scars, lips slightly parted, and after a second she reaches out and touches the bullet hole on her bare shoulder.

And then, to Nyssa’s surprise, Laurel’s legs tighten around Nyssa’s waist and she presses a kiss on that spot. Then, her hand fisting in Nyssa’s hair, Laurel kisses her again, so Nyssa can feel the swipe of Laurel’s tongue against her own. 

“Show me,” Laurel says again, and Nyssa can’t stand it a second longer - she gets to her feet easily, lowers Laurel onto the couch, pulling down her jeans and panties as she does so. And she doesn’t even take her time like she normally does, so desperate is Nyssa to taste her again; Laurel’s legs go up and over Nyssa’s shoulders, and Nyssa buries her tongue inside her, making Laurel gasp and cry out. Nyssa doesn’t stop, not even when Laurel trembles to her first climax; Nyssa keeps going even though her jaw is aching and her arms are starting to hurt from where they’re supporting Laurel’s legs. And when at last she comes again Nyssa pushes up the hem of Laurel’s shirt so Nyssa can rest her head on Laurel’s abdomen. Laurel reaches down, strokes Nyssa’s hair.

“Wow,” she breathes.


	4. bloodlust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know things take a perhaps unexpected turn in this chapter, but bear with me. It will all make sense eventually. :)

Laurel suits up a week later, at her own behest, and Thea and Oliver can’t exactly stop her when they suited up so soon after dying and coming back themselves. When she’s out in the field, though, she quickly spirals out of control, beating a Ghost half to death and only stopping when Nyssa yells Laurel’s name.

Later when they’re back in the bunker, Nyssa holds ice to Laurel’s bloody knuckles, and Nyssa wishes they were alone so she could kiss them.

“I _told_ you this would happen,” Oliver says.

“The Ghost ended up taking his own life,” Nyssa snaps back. “And we will deal with this.” She tries to look reassuringly at Quentin, but all she sees is worry in the lines on his face.

“How? We don’t have any more of the lotus.”

“We don’t need the lotus,” Thea says. Everyone looks at her. “Malcolm… he said that the only way to fight the bloodlust was to take the life of the one who took yours.”

“That’s why Sara went after you when she first came out of the Pit,” Felicity says.

“Exactly. And Ra’s was already dead when my bloodlust started to manifest,” Thea explains. “So I didn’t have anyone to kill. But Laurel - Laurel does.”

“This is madness!” Oliver says.

“Is it, Oliver?” Diggle asks. “If anyone deserves to die, it’s Damian Darhk.”

“We’re not killers - _you’re_ not a killer, Laurel.” Oliver meets Laurel’s eyes, clearly trying to plead with her to see reason. But she stays quiet.

“I mean, I remember that time I shot Officer Daly. He seemed pretty dead to me,” Laurel says finally.

“And you are hardly one to go on your high and mighty about killing, Oliver,” Nyssa adds. “Or did you forget that you killed my father?”

“That was _necessary_ -”

“And Darhk is not? He killed a woman you claim to have loved for half your life.”

But at this Laurel’s hand closes around Nyssa’s wrist. “It’s okay, Nyssa.”

“No, it’s not! I will not stand by while you are plagued with a problem I promised I would fix.”

“That _we_ would fix,” Quentin says hastily.

Still, true to her word, Nyssa tracks down Darhk on her own, with no help from anyone. Laurel suits up again, and just as Nyssa predicted, Darhk is in a warehouse on Fulton with the Ghosts. Nyssa subdues his magic with some old magic of her own that she learned from her father, while Laurel turns up the frequency of the Canary Cry so the Ghosts pass out from the sound of her scream.

And it’s hard, the hardest mission she’s ever been on because she hasn’t had help, but finally Nyssa binds his wrists with a trick arrow aimed perfectly and she holds his arms behind his back as she hands Laurel an arrow to stab Darhk with. Laurel barely hesitates, and Darhk yells in pain when the arrow pierces through his lung. Nyssa lets him fall to the ground, motionless, and she meets Laurel’s triumphant gaze as Darhk’s life slowly but surely seeps away, as readily as the blood that leaks from his chest.


	5. recollection

Back in the bunker, though, there is no triumph on Laurel’s face. Her eyes are hollow, her mouth gaping open, and it seems to Nyssa that she barely hears Oliver’s anger at what they’ve done.

“I remember,” she finally says, cutting across Oliver’s curt speech with a bitingly cold emptiness about her that makes Nyssa shiver.

“You - wait, what?”

“I remember,” Laurel repeats. “The bloodlust… it’s cleared. And it must have gotten in the way of my memory but I remember now. I remember you, Nyssa. I remember… everything.”

“Are you okay?” Oliver asks, and he’s no longer furious at her, that much Nyssa can tell.

“No. Oh God, Ollie, what did I just do?”

Oliver steps forward, arms outstretched, but Laurel turns away from his hug.

“I need the room. Just me and Nyssa.”

He nods, leaving in the elevator, and it’s only once the doors close that Nyssa speaks.

“You regret things already?”

“Nyssa… how could you let me kill him?”

“It was the only way,” Nyssa says. “I have seen how the bloodlust has plagued Thea. And I may not have seen it with Sara but I know she is battling it even today. I did not want the same for you.”

“Then why did you bring me back in the first place?”

Her words slice at Nyssa’s heart. “I meant what I said,” Nyssa says. “In your apartment. When I said I could not bear to be on this earth without you, I meant every word.”

And somehow Laurel softens slightly. “I know you did. I know. And I get it. I do. But now we have to pay the price.”

“What does that mean?”

“You said… our souls were connected. That something brought you back to me, time and time again. But I - don’t think that can happen, for us. Not now. Maybe not ever. I can’t - be with you. Not after what I did. I killed a man, Nyssa. In cold blood. And somehow now I have to live with that. And you do too. But we can’t do that together.”

“You don’t mean that,” Nyssa whispers.

Laurel smiles a sad kind of smile. “You know, it’s funny. You never told me the full story of us. You know, the me with amnesia. You never said how I eventually told you to go away. Find yourself. Without the League - and without me.”

“I need you,” Nyssa says, and she’s pleading with Laurel now, with her eyes that are suddenly full of tears. “I would not have brought you back if I did not.”

“You don’t,” Laurel says firmly. “You don’t need anyone. Least of all me. Not after what I've done.” And Nyssa wonders, briefly, while trying her utmost not to feel hurt by her words, if this is about more than just killing Darhk. There has to be more to it. It doesn't make sense for her to care this much  “I’m gonna go, okay?”

Nyssa's voice is soft, now. “Where will you go?”

“To - Central City. I’ll go visit my mom, see Cisco. See if I can figure things out. It worked for Sara, right?”

“Right,” Nyssa says faintly.

Laurel steps forward, now, her hand going up to the back of Nyssa’s neck. “I’m sorry,” Laurel says, just before she kisses Nyssa, and Nyssa’s sure Laurel can taste the salt of her tears as she clings on for dear life to Laurel’s waist, not wanting to ever let her go.

But she does, eventually, and Nyssa wishes as Laurel pulls away and rests her forehead against Nyssa’s that the guilt in Laurel’s eyes could just disappear.

“I love you,” Laurel breathes. “I love you more than anything. I want you to know that.”

“I love you too,” Nyssa replies. “And I always will.”

Central City is sunnier, thankfully, and Dinah is over the moon to see her daughter, unaware of what Laurel did in Star City mere days ago. In a way Laurel takes comfort in that, because at least to Dinah, Laurel is still the daughter she can be proud of.

Dinah doesn't know what Laurel's done. She's better off that way, and Laurel decides Cisco is better off that way too when she drops by his apartment one night.

When he sees her silhouette in the half-darkness of his living room, his eyes immediately widen and he runs forward, enveloping her in a hug before, she's sure **,** he's even certain it's her.

“Laurel…” he breathes.

“Hey, Cisco,” Laurel says, hugging him back. “I've missed you.”

“Not half as much as I missed you,” Cisco replies. “You - you _died_. I went to your funeral! And Nyssa goes and dunks you into this Pit and just like that you're good as new.”

Laurel's smile falters. “Not quite.”

“What do you mean?” He gestures for her to sit down on his couch.

And all of a sudden Laurel's sick of hiding the truth. “I mean I'm back, but I'm not… whole. I - coming back with the Pit has a side effect. You have to deal with the bloodlust of the others who have bathed in those waters.”

Slowly Cisco gets to his feet and to Laurel's dismay she realises he's suddenly afraid of her. “And are you okay now?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Laurel answers, and Cisco visibly relaxes. “But… it came at a price. Damian Darhk -”

“- killed you, I know,” Cisco says, “and now he's dead. Wait,” he says, frowning, “are you saying that…”

“I killed him,” Laurel says heavily. “And it was… unprovoked. He was unarmed. His magic was weakened.”

“He was a dangerous monster and I'm glad he's dead,” Cisco says uncharacteristically bluntly.

“But it doesn't change the fact that I killed a man,” Laurel insists. “And now… now I don't know what to do.”

And then, before she knows it, the whole story comes spilling out of her - how she woke up without any of her post-Gambit memories, and even when the confusion passed she couldn't remember her time as the Black Canary or anything about Nyssa.

“Whoa,” Cisco says, “that's trippy.”

“Tell me about it,” Laurel says. “And I don't know if you know… I know I never told you, but -”

“- you and Nyssa were together?” Cisco smiles, and it's a sad kind of smile that makes Laurel's heart sink. “Yeah, I knew. I knew you loved her, anyway, from the first time I met her.”

“How could you tell?” Laurel whispers.

“Just… the way you looked at her. How you were with each other. I could tell.”

“We weren’t together when you met her,” Laurel tells him.

“I know. I could tell that much too. But I could tell you were in love with her, for sure,” Cisco says. He pauses, then says tentatively, “I also can guess you’re not together now.”

Laurel sighs. “What gave it away?”

Cisco shrugs and then shakes his head. “No, you know what? It… doesn’t matter.”

“No, what is it?” Laurel says, and she reaches out, covers Cisco’s hand with her own where it’s resting on the couch.

“It’s nothing. Just… I have a little experience loving someone I can’t have.”

He looks straight into her eyes as he says the words, and Laurel knows he’s talking about her. She tries to laugh.

“Cisco -”

“Hey, it’s not like I ever tried to hide it,” Cisco says. “I did tell you I loved you the first time I met you, remember?”

Laurel smiles, squeezing his hand gently. “Yeah, I remember. And it’s not that I don’t love you, Cisco -”

“- you just love someone else more. I get it.”

“You’re my friend. You’ll always be my friend. And I love you for everything you’ve done for me. More than that. I love you for everything you are.”

“I love you for everything you are too,” he says, and she’s relieved that his gaze is still warm, that he hasn’t tugged his hand away. “And for the record? Everything you are is good. There is not a force in the universe that could make you a bad person. I promise.”

She leans in, kisses his cheek. “Thank you, Cisco.”

“Anytime.”

His phone lights up on the table, and Cisco quickly reads the text.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Not really. While you’ve been away, Barry… gave up his powers. To save Wally, Iris’s brother.”

Laurel’s eyes widen. “So he’s not a speedster anymore?”

“He isn’t. But we think there’s a way to bring back his powers - by doing another particle accelerator explosion and just - containing it this time.”

“That sounds… dangerous,” Laurel says.

“It is,” Cisco agrees.

“Count me in.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Of course. You’re there, so I’m there. As moral support, of course,” she adds. “I don’t know science, obviously.”

Cisco laughs. “Moral support is good.”


	6. explosion

She doesn’t really think it’ll be dangerous. Harrison Wells - the _other_ Harrison Wells, from something called earth-2, says it’s going to be fine, that no one besides Barry will be affected. And Laurel believes him.

(That, and she doesn’t really want to be alone right now and needs people around her who she can call her friends.)

But something goes wrong, and she’s knocked off her feet with the force of the dark matter. She feels her throat constricting and finds it suddenly impossible to breathe, and she gasps, sure she is going to die all over again.

And then everything goes black.

When she comes to she’s surrounded by Team Flash, and they fill her in on what happened while she was out - that Barry went into something called the Speedforce, but that he’s fine now, and he has his powers back, and Jesse and Wally were hit too and Wally’s fine and Jesse’s just come out of a coma. Laurel barely takes any of this in, still quite disoriented, and when she blinks she realises it’s not just Team Flash crowding her bedside. She blinks again, and Nyssa al Ghul comes into focus, watching her anxiously, not saying a word.

“Nyssa...”

“I am so glad you are all right,” Nyssa says. She hesitates, then. “I - should go.”

“No, don’t go,” Laurel says, and it comes out as a plea.

“I am just here to check on your safety. I very much doubt anyone is comfortable with my being here.”

“I don’t mind,” Cisco says immediately, and Laurel looks at him gratefully.

“Regardless, there is no reason for me to stay any longer.” And before Laurel can even try to get up, Nyssa leaves.

“Don’t move too much,” Cisco says quickly when Laurel tries to sit up a bit straighter. “We still don’t know how the particle accelerator affected you -”

“It hasn’t affected me,” Laurel interrupts. “I’m fine. I feel a bit dizzy, but that’s it.”

“We’re still going to do some tests on you,” Barry says firmly.

“Fine,” Laurel says, sighing resignedly, and she holds out her arm so that Henry Allen, Barry's father, can take her blood.

They don't find anything. Barry tells her to watch out, though, because metahuman powers can take time to manifest.

She goes on patrol as Black Canary that night, but when she gets in a tussle with an arms dealer things go south quickly when her Canary Cry seems to be malfunctioning and she just screams emptily, to her dismay. The dealer has his machine gun aimed at her, ready to fire, when from somewhere above an arrow goes right through his chest and he falls forwards, dead.

Laurel manages to get up, and she knocks out a thug on her right while her saviour fires a flechette into the shoulder of the one on her left. The last of them down, Nyssa jumps down gracefully, pulling the scarf away from her face as she does so.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Laurel says breathlessly. “I - how did you know I was here?”

“I heard about the arms deal and thought you would come here,” Nyssa says, adding sternly, “alone.”

“And is that the only reason you're here? Guns?” There's a sharp edge to Laurel's voice as she speaks, and this does not go unnoticed by Nyssa.

“I am sorry for leaving earlier. In truth… I was not sure you wanted me there.”

“I'm sorry too,” Laurel says, and at the sound of sirens approaching she puts her arm around Nyssa's waist as Nyssa aims an arrow at the top of a building. The two of them shoot up the zipline together, and when they reach the roof of Jitters Laurel immediately lets go, shaking a little with the adrenaline of it all.

“For what?” Nyssa says, and Laurel raises her eyebrows. “You said you were sorry. For what?”

“For… ending things the way that I did. For running.”

“It is quite all right,” Nyssa says, but it's clear she's lying.

“No, it's not,” Laurel says. “I left. We didn't talk, work through things, like you're supposed to when you love someone. And for that I'm sorry. I just… needed some time to think.”

“And what are you thinking about now?” Nyssa asks softly.

“Just… how much you mean to me. Someone reminded me of that, just before the particle accelerator exploded. And I figured - life's too short.”

“That it is,” Nyssa agrees, and before Laurel can say anything else Nyssa's kissing her, softly at first, then hard and fast with the kind of desperation and hunger that Laurel's missed. Laurel takes a step back, not realising she's standing right on the edge, and she tumbles off the building with a scream.

Only when she does, her scream seems to ripple through the air, shattering the window panes, and she hangs suspended in mid air, a few feet above the ground, for who knows how long, until finally she falls to the ground in a heap just outside Jitters. Iris comes running out, grabbing Laurel's hand and helping her to her feet while calling Barry. He arrives in a flash, speeding her away to Star Labs.

Once they're there they run more tests on Laurel.

“See that?” Cisco says, pointing at the computer screen.

“I do,” Laurel says, “but I don't understand any of it.”

“She's a lawyer, not a scientist,” says Iris.

“That's your genes mutating. Into the metahuman gene.”

“I’m… a metahuman?” Laurel says.

“You had your choker on when the particle accelerator exploded, right?” Cisco asks.

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean -”

“How can you explain falling from a twenty-storey building unharmed, then?” a voice from behind her says. Laurel looks up, sees Nyssa, tries to smile but doesn't quite manage it.

“I'm glad you're here,” Laurel says instead.

“The cry must have cushioned your fall,” Cisco explains. “It made a dent in the concrete, actually. But yeah, that's the only way to explain it, really.”

“So, what, that means…”

“You're a metahuman now, yeah.”


	7. acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get smutty here. Reader discretion is advised - i.e. this one is not for kiddos.

It takes her a while to get used to her new ability. The first time she uses her meta Canary Cry, she makes the would-be mugger’s ears bleed, and Cisco has to spend a week training her to control it. 

When Barry speeds Laurel back to Star City he's hesitant to leave her, until Laurel assures him she's okay, especially with the team on patrol and Felicity’s reassuring presence in the bunker. She trains on the salmon ladder for hours, even after Felicity clears out at three in the morning. 

(Laurel doesn’t tell her or anyone else that she’s a metahuman now - she figures she can tell the team later, together.)

Nyssa enters via the elevator at around three-thirty. 

“What are you doing here?” Laurel says before she can stop herself. She’s leaning against the salmon ladder, a towel around her neck, and she flexes her arms gingerly, deeply regretting her intense workout.

“I heard you were back in Star City,” Nyssa says. “I… wanted to see you.”

“Did you hear I managed to deafen a mugger with my new superpower?” Laurel says with a humourless laugh. “Yeah, he can’t hear a thing now. Thanks to me. Cisco says he’s working on something to help him. He said something about a friend - Hartley someone - but I don’t know anymore.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Nyssa says. “Less because I care about a mugger. More because of what this is doing to your conscience.”

“Which is probably why you should stay as far away from me as possible.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that.” Nyssa’s reached the salmon ladder, now, and she reaches up, climbing the ladder rung by rung, punctuated with clangs that make Laurel’s head hurt. When she reaches the top with what seems like no effort at all, she says, “I love you too much to leave your side again.”

“You don’t know, Nyssa. About who I am.  _ What _ I am.”

Nyssa jumps down, now. “I know exactly who you are. You are my -”

“Nyssa, please,” Laurel whispers. “Don’t.”

“You are my partner,” Nyssa says, despite her pleading, “with a good soul and a pure heart.”

“Even after what I’ve done?”

“Nothing you’ve done is unforgivable,” Nyssa tells her. “You taught me that.”

“Nyssa...”

“You saved me once. Let me save you.”

“How?”

“By helping you forgive yourself.”

But Laurel sighs and turns away, sitting down on the chair near the monitors. “You don't understand.”

“Then help me to,” Nyssa insists. She follows Laurel, kneeling in front of her and for the first time tentatively touching her arm. “Laurel, you know what I have done. How many lives I have taken. What is this life, of someone as worthless -”

“That's just it, though,” Laurel says. “It's still a life. And I still took it. And in the eyes of the law -”

“That is not what this is about,” Nyssa says, and her eyes close as though she's just realised something - something Laurel hasn't dared even think, let alone say. But immediately Nyssa softens, and it's impossible for Laurel to tear her eyes away from Nyssa's, not when her gaze is burning into Laurel and igniting something deep inside her.

“Then what?” Laurel says finally.

“You… feel as I do,” Nyssa says, and Laurel surprises herself by laughing weakly.

“I don't think it takes a genius to work out how I feel about you, Nyssa.”

Nyssa smiles briefly but then shakes her head. “No, not about that. I mean - you feel the way I do about Damian Darhk. In that he deserved a lot worse and you feel no guilt about it.”

“That's -” Laurel starts to say, and she means to say “not true” but she knows Nyssa's not wrong.

“And that terrifies you,” Nyssa goes on, “because you have always been the pinnacle of goodness and being - righteous.”

“But I don't feel any remorse,” Laurel says quietly. “And that makes me feel guilty as hell.”

“Ya Laurel,” Nyssa says gently, and Laurel watches as she reaches up, tucks a strand of hair behind Laurel's ear. 

“And I hear you. You've… taken lives before. A lot of them. But I love you anyway because that's not who you are anymore and besides - killing was all you knew, growing up, right? You were raised as an assassin. I wouldn't expect anything less. But me - things are different with me.”

“They don't have to be,” Nyssa tells her earnestly. “You honestly think that your agonising over what you've done is going to make me love you any less?”

“Honestly? I don't know,” Laurel says, and she watches as Nyssa's face falls. But then Laurel can't help but reach up to touch Nyssa's cheek, Laurel's thumb pressing against her jaw, and it’s then that she makes up her mind. “But I'm sure of one thing.”

Nyssa's eyes fill with fire, so they're alight with something that looks like hope, even as Laurel's hand drops to her side.

“What's that?”

“About… what you said. About our souls being drawn to each other. I guess - you were right. Because you're here now.  _ We're _ here now. Even after everything that happened, you still came. To me. And - I just… I just really love you, okay?”

And when Nyssa pulls at the front of her shirt and kisses her it's slow, but urgent at the same time, and Laurel can taste the smile on her lips as she pulls Nyssa onto her lap.

“I love you,” Nyssa says softly when she pulls away, still leaning her forehead against Laurel's. “I love you, ya Laurel.”

Nyssa raises her arms willingly, letting Laurel take off her shirt. Laurel presses a button on the keyboard and to her relief the bunker goes into lockdown. Laurel gets to her feet, slightly unsteadily, but still managing to keep her balance as she lowers Nyssa onto the raised platform where they normally do their training. Reaching behind her Nyssa takes off her bra, and Laurel kisses a spot just above Nyssa's left breast while kneading her right with her hand. Nyssa gasps, even before Laurel's mouth encloses Nyssa's nipple and the hand on Nyssa's breast moves down, past her abdomen to between her legs, inside her pants.

Laurel touches Nyssa through her soaked panties, moaning in time with her partner, who's already so gloriously wet for her that Laurel momentarily forgets what she's doing with her mouth. Then she parts her lips, lets her tongue flick against Nyssa's nipple before releasing it while at the same time pressing her fingers inside Nyssa through her underwear.

Then Laurel pulls down what's left of Nyssa's clothing, inhaling deeply and revelling in the sweet scent of Nyssa's arousal. She nudges her nose in between Nyssa's thighs, so the tip of her nose becomes wet, and when she lets her tongue dart out Nyssa exhales sharply.

“Too much?” Laurel says, raising her head, and Nyssa shakes hers. Still Laurel goes slower, letting just the tip of her tongue kiss Nyssa's entrance and then touching her again with her fingers. She feels Nyssa's walls clench down around them, but she doesn't stop what she's doing, not until Nyssa gets close (Laurel can tell by the way her breathing quickens and her grip on Laurel's free hand tightens and she's gotten hotter and wetter by the second), and then Laurel withdraws again, making Nyssa groan softly in protest.

And then Laurel's tongue is where her fingers were, the flat of her tongue against Nyssa's throbbing clit. Laurel laps her wetness up, licking and sucking until her jaw becomes sore and her biceps - already aching - start to hurt even more and her knees begin to go numb from where they've pressed into the cold floor of the bunker. And then Nyssa comes with a cry, showering her with unintelligible words of Arabic.

It's music to Laurel's ears.


	8. surrender

The shower water is warm on Laurel’s back when she turns it on, but she winces when it turns cold for a second before heating up too much and burning her skin. She lifts up her arms, letting the water wash over the sweat of her underarms, and it’s then that she hears the soft pad of Nyssa’s bare feet on tiles as she enters the bathroom.

“Laurel?”

“In here,” Laurel calls, and she opens the curtain. Nyssa is standing there with a blanket wrapped around her. “Join me?” Laurel asks softly.

Nyssa smiles, lets the blanket fall to the floor, revealing her naked form, and _by God_ is she beautiful. Stunningly so. Her body, obscured only somewhat by steam, is decorated in scars, the remnants of her battles still written on her skin. Laurel had them memorised, the path of each one a faded line on a map, one that she spent the last two hours reacquainting herself with, relearning her every curve and caressing each of her taut muscles.

Nyssa's cheekbones are high, sharp, her lips plump and full, and her eyes sparkling with the lazy kind of pleasure that Laurel’s sure mirrors her own. Laurel’s hand goes out automatically, wanting to cup the gentle swell of her breast and the curve of her hip. Nyssa steps towards her, letting her do so, letting Laurel kiss her neck and flick her tongue against Nyssa’s collarbone. Her hair quickly becomes as wet as Laurel’s under the hot spray of the shower, and Laurel reaches up, now, to kiss Nyssa’s lips. She parts her mouth, sucking on Nyssa’s lower lip, and then Nyssa pulls away, leaning her forehead against Laurel’s, but still with her nose bumping against Laurel’s.

“Are you all right?” Nyssa asks.

“Honestly,” Laurel says, “for the first time since I’ve been back, I actually feel okay. I - I’m glad we talked.”

“I am glad, but I was also happy to stop talking,” Nyssa replies, and Laurel laughs. It’s the most glorious feeling hearing the sound come out of her mouth, even if it feels unusual. “I have missed the sound of your laugh.”

“So have I,” Laurel admits. “I - don’t say it enough, but, uh, you’re beautiful.”

“Even with my scars?”

“Especially with your scars. They’re a part of you. And I love all of you.”

She can feel Nyssa bend her knees slightly as she lets her hand trail down to Laurel’s breast, then her abdomen, while she drops a kiss on Laurel’s erect nipple and then just as quickly moves down. Kneeling, now, Nyssa presses a kiss on Laurel’s hip, then the top of her thigh, and then she parts Laurel’s legs a little so she can lightly bite the inside of her thigh. Laurel gasps at that, and arousal shoots through her, rippling down her spine and going straight to her groin,

“God, _Nyssa_...” she says with a moan. Nyssa does it again, teeth sinking into her flesh, leaving a trail of softly biting kisses in her wake, until she reaches Laurel's centre. Laurel reaches down, now, so she can thread her fingers of one hand through Nyssa's sodden hair and caress her wet jaw with the other. And then Nyssa's tongue is inside her, and Laurel is backed against the cold shower wall, throwing her head back and crying out when Nyssa finds her clit, which she can feel is swollen with arousal. Nyssa sucks down, expertly so, letting her slightly roughened tongue scrape at her walls as they tense around her. And it's strange because Nyssa is on her knees and yet Laurel is the one at Nyssa's mercy.

When Laurel climaxes she hits her head on the shower wall with a thud, because she comes so hard she's sure she sees stars. Dazed, she waits until Nyssa's back on her feet, vaguely registering herself holding her hands out for Nyssa to hold onto. Nyssa’s form comes back into focus, and Laurel smiles, kissing her gently. The taste of herself takes a bit of getting used to, but eventually her arms wind around Nyssa's neck and Nyssa pushes her against the wall.

“Your turn,” Laurel whispers, her hand going beneath Nyssa's navel. She goes slow, letting her palm get wet by Nyssa's entrance. Arousal pools onto her hand, warm and sticky, and damn if that doesn't totally do it for Laurel, too, knowing _she's_ the one doing this to Nyssa. Laurel brings her hand to her mouth, licking it, and she relishes the taste of her, so sharply sweet on the tongue, and Nyssa moans at that, watching her hungrily.

Spreading her legs, Nyssa shifts a little, and moments later she's got one leg between Laurel's and the other on the other side of her right thigh. Laurel just watches, brow furrowing a little, and then Nyssa squeezes her thighs around Laurel's leg, and Laurel lets out a long _ooooh_ of pleasure. Laurel copies her, closing her legs around Nyssa's thigh and letting her entrance rub against Nyssa as she looks right into her eyes.

Pleasure courses through her, and Nyssa grabs Laurel's face, kissing her roughly, with less finesse than usual, but that only turns Laurel on even more as she lets Nyssa's nails dig into her back and her breasts squash against Nyssa's. Laurel parts her lips, tongue darting out and into Nyssa's mouth, while she feels the crush of Nyssa's thigh against her clit and feels a rush of heady pleasure at that. And she's close now, and so is Nyssa, by the looks of it, when Laurel pulls away and looks her in the eyes.

Nyssa just grinds down even harder on Laurel, tighter, and she's dripping for Laurel, wet and hot and throbbing with desire. Part of Laurel can't believe she's doing this to her, that she of all people _could_ do this to her, could reduce the daughter of Ra's al Ghul to something so bare and vulnerable and wanting, just with her touch.

They come together, Nyssa's nails sinking into Laurel's biceps and leaving indentations - but, truthfully, Laurel wouldn't have it any other way. They float down to earth as one, legs finally slacking around each other and Nyssa releasing Laurel from where she was pinned against the shower wall.

“I love you,” Nyssa breathes reverently.

Laurel smiles, and then she raises her eyebrows as Nyssa reaches up, takes the shower head off its holder.

“What are you doing?”

“Ya Laurel,” Nyssa says, “samaya… do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Laurel replies instantly. She hesitates for a moment, though. “Just… show me first.”

Nyssa lifts her arm up to adjust the water pressure, reducing it to a gentle spray. Then she parts her legs and points the shower head upwards, so the spray is going directly against her entrance. Nyssa closes her eyes and lets out a little _oh_ of surprise when presumably she feels it against her clit.

Laurel watches with unexpected hunger, barely realising the moisture leaking onto her thigh until her hand goes down there instinctively and her fingers become wet. She's sensitive this time, her clit still tender from her orgasm, and when Nyssa searches her eyes for permission, Laurel nods, but nothing could prepare her for the blazing heat that ensues in her belly when the spray of water sets her thighs on fire, even though it's not particularly hot.

Scrabbling for Nyssa's free hand, Laurel squeezes, just as Nyssa brings the shower head a little closer to Laurel's entrance. It's a different kind of sensation from the rough flick of Nyssa's tongue or the scrape of her nail against her clit, but it's enjoyable nonetheless - immensely so. Her climax is prolonged, her pleasure coming out in cries that echo in the shower room and surely reverberate around the bunker. It's a tortuous kind of ecstasy that Laurel revels in, that she's _missed -_ and she wonders as she takes the shower head from Nyssa and does the same to her… if maybe she might just be all right.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading please take the time to leave a comment. They are always responded to and always greatly appreciated. Thank you so much for reading!


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